


Decades

by speedgriffon



Series: Dragon Age: Evelyn Cousland Fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunk Alistair (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A two-part look at how Alistair would reunite with his Warden love in different world states. First, an exiled Alistair who joins the Inquisition. Second, a warden Alistair who needs some rescuing from Weisshaupt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forgiveness

_“I’m sorry, Alistair,” Evelyn’s expression was solemn, her eyes red from crying. Alistair ignored the instinct inside to reach out and hold her. There would be no more of that, no more of **them**. “This… Riordan made sense.”_

_No. It didn’t. It didn’t make any sense for Loghain to become a Grey Warden. It was an insult! Alistair would rather die than ever see the traitor join the order. He almost got his wish at the Landsmeet when Anora ordered his execution. If it wasn’t for Evelyn, his head would’ve rolled right then. Now, Alistair was determined to get away- as far away from this decision as possible. The woman he loved had betrayed him._

It had been ten years now.

The blight had been defeated long ago and Loghain had died killing the Archdemon. An ultimate sacrifice that spared Evelyn’s life and made him a hero once more. It took a long time for Alistair to come to terms with the situation, but deep down on every anniversary, it only brought up feelings of hurt. For years after leaving Denerim he traveled Fereldan, trying to create a new identity. He became a vigilante, killing darkspawn stragglers in towns with no defenses or soldiers but even that lost its purpose over time.

It didn’t take very long before Alistair gave up his shield, and turned to something much more soothing. A glass of ale every night became two, then five, and as the years dragged on, it became his only source of comfort. He wandered, traveling from tavern to tavern and in Kirkwall he blended in with Fereldan refugees. He thought he could build a life for himself there, even if it was as the Hanged Man’s resident drunkard. It wasn’t until Teagan came to get him back to Fereldan that Alistair left, again searching for a new meaning.

He was in western Fereldan when the Mage-Templar war broke out and thought to cross the border into Orlais to avoid the fighting. He even considered making the pilgrimage to Weisshaupt, if only to have a safe place to avoid the chaos. When news of the Conclave and Divine Justinia’s death reached him he changed his mind. The Inquisition had been reformed and Alistair once again picked up his sword and shield. He trained for months, struggling to mold his body back into the warrior it once was before even approaching the fortress in the Frostbacks.

At first he thought he would be recognized, especially when he saw the commander of the Inquisition forces, let alone the spymaster. When he was accepted into their ranks without a second glance, Alistair took it as a sign. This was where he belonged. And so he stayed, under a new name, becoming a soldier in the field, and a trusted warrior for important tasks. For the first time in a long time he felt important.

The false calling came, and he fought it, struggling not to reveal his background as a Warden to his fellow soldiers. He feared for his life. Alistair wouldn’t let his past effect his present. By pure chance he was stationed, rather _stuck_ in the Hinterlands, when the Inquisitor led her army to Adamant. There had been a battle, and even though many Wardens had died, she encouraged the remaining brothers and sisters to join the Inquisition.

Alistair was glad at the news but the event brought up too many painful memories. As Wardens found refuge at Skyhold, he started to wonder if _she_ would be one of them. There was talk of a Warden-Commander visiting but he had no way of know which one, or if that was her title any longer. Alistair thought on the subject for days, wondering if she was even alive. The last he heard of her, she had saved Amaranthine from destruction a few months after the Blight. Since then he lived in blissful ignorance, telling himself he didn’t care what happened to his lost love.

_Love_. He hated to admit it but deep down, behind the facade, he ached for her.

“Warden-Commander Cousland is here!” He heard the words outside his small private room. “Rumor has it she has a cure for the Wardens!”

Alistair couldn’t believe it. Evelyn—she was alive, and was _here_. Fate worked in wicked ways. A cure was something he had a hard time trusting. As far as he knew the taint in his blood was there forever until he died a corrupted creature in the deep roads. The soldiers hushed quickly, and for a moment Alistair thought about forgetting their words completely. He didn’t need a cure. To die by the calling would be his penitence.

There was a sharp knock at his door and Alistair instantly got up. Was there some kind of emergency? Perhaps he was getting new orders and was being sent out to the field. All of his theories and thoughts left him the moment he opened the door. Evelyn stood in front of him, dressed in Warden regalia. He tried to keep his expression calm, and momentarily thought he could get away without her recognizing him. But he was fooling himself. Already, her eyes were scanning his face, and he watched as she almost reached out to touch him. Her lips twitched to a half smile before flattening into a straight line.

“May I come in?” her voice was strained. 

He blocked the doorway but soon stepped back into the room, watching as she hesitated to follow. Evelyn rested herself against the closed door for a moment as she glanced at the floor. Alistair looked her over. She had seen better days, but Maker, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. He gulped down the long-forgotten feelings and nervousness that bundled in his stomach. There was no time or place for that now.

“How did you find me?” he finally asked. Evelyn widened her eyes.

“Leliana is not daft,” she started, voice rising. “She’s known it was you the moment you arrived and sent me letters about you. What you’ve done for the Inquisition.”

Alistair had to hold back from getting angry. He knew it would be risky, and it was only his fault for not trying harder to disguise himself. Evelyn let out a long sigh, and shifted in her spot in front of the door. He stayed a few feet away from her, finding it increasingly harder to not move closer.

“Why are you here?” he asked next. Evelyn stayed silent for a long moment before finally looking up to him.

“There is no easy way to say it,” she paused for a brief moment. “There’s a cure for the taint.”

He let the words mull around in his mind, a thousand questions on his lips. A cure would mean he could live a longer life, have more time to redeem himself. Evelyn’s expression was expectant, but he couldn’t find the right words in response. After a long time, he looked at her again.

“Alistair,” his name on her lips stung worse than he expected. She stepped closer, and he steeled himself to not push her away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for _everything_. I should’ve explained my reasoning years ago. I’m only here to give you this gift so you can live without this burden.”

Alistair couldn’t think of anything to say back. Evelyn frowned and looked away. He was conflicted—angry about her sudden arrival back into his life. But he was also…happy. He had missed her, regardless of how she had hurt him in the past. Alistair had imagined this moment for years, what it would be like to reunite. He thought about tracking her down but was always too afraid of what might happen. He expected resentment or anger but not this reserved, timid woman who couldn’t make eye contact. What had happened to her over the last decade?

“I only hope that I’m not too late.”

No, Alistair thought. Without any more hesitation, he reached out to grip her hand in his. She flinched and widened her eyes. She wasn’t expecting this either.

“Have you taken it?” he asked cautiously.

Evelyn shook her head once. The sadness in her expression said it all. She couldn’t take any cure without seeing him take it first. Alistair took a deep breath. He wanted to, but refrained from leaning in to kiss her. It wasn’t appropriate. Instead, he offered the smallest smile he could muster. It took a long time for Alistair to finally agree with words, but when he did, he felt relief fill him completely. Closure, or absolution, was what he needed. It would take some time, but now, all he wanted was to rebuild their friendship. He only hoped that Evelyn wished the same. After all, they would now have all the time they needed.


	2. In Time

_“We’ll be together soon enough,” Evelyn’s smile lingered as she stepped backwards, her hands slowly sliding from Alistair’s. “You’ll see. And when I return, we’ll be together. This time, forever.”_

As Alistair felt the memory fade away, all the pain in his body came rushing back as he awoke. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to observe the state he was in. He was sitting up, leaned back against a mound of pillows in an unfamiliar bed. There was a large bandage wrapped across his torso, and when he raised his hands into his field of vision, he saw bandages around some of his fingers, and a full cast around his left thumb.  
  
He tried to adjust himself more but found the sudden movement had his vision blurry and head throbbing. What had happened to him? He breathed in, ignoring the sting in his lungs, only to freeze at the familiar scent lingering around him. He blinked hard to clear his vision and glanced around the room, trying to find any evidence of her. Could he be imagining it? It wouldn’t be surprising, given his current state.  
  
After finding nothing familiar about his surroundings he leaned his head back against the pillows, trying to recall any pertinent information. Last he remembered, he was sitting in a dark cell, chained up and left to be another Warden casualty… or was it a griffon he recalled? Alistair smirked to himself, wondering what kind of delusion he was having now. Maybe he was still in the dungeon in Weisshaupt, only imagining the soft bed, and sweet perfume that belonged to his…  _griffon_?  
  
_She was wearing her Warden armor, the silverite griffon breastplate a bright beacon of hope in the dark cell. Alistair couldn’t see her face from under her hood, but could hear her rushed words, her apologies for being late, for leaving the order—for leaving him. Dark hair fanned over his face as she reached above him to pick the locks of his shackles, her hands quickly dipping to catch him as he fell, the two crumpling to the floor. Finally, he could see the outline of her face through his blurred vision, and weakly smiled, wondering why she reacted with a strangled cry. Her face dipped low so her lips could brush against his brow. He breathed in, struggling to reach up and hold her face to his when she began to pull away. How could she smell like the roses from their garden after all this time? Again, apologies spilled from her lips, words Alistair was having a harder time hearing. As his vision faded further, he gripped her hand._  
  
“Evelyn.”  


_Evelyn_

 

Alistair snapped his head up, wincing at the way the movement stabbed at his temples. He  _had_  been saved. Weisshaupt had been a trap, and he had no way of knowing that Evelyn was with the Inquisition, and had heard of the Senior Warden’s betrayal. Alistair believed she had already been killed by the traitorous Wardens, and thought he would join her soon. But she had come for him. Evelyn had  _rescued_  him. He continued to mull over the memory, trying to comprehend what had transpired, but found his thoughts lost on the fact that  _she_  was somewhere nearby. At least he hoped so. Now he was determined, he decided, and moved his hands down to the large duvet cover that was tucked at his waist. He pushed it aside, only to groan at the sight of more bandages—one around his thigh, and another cast around his right foot.  
  
He gritted his teeth, pushing away the pain that hit him in full force as he shuffled towards the edge of the bed. As he placed his feet on the ground, he hissed, looking around the room for any way to brace his weight. Finally, he reached out for a chair that had been placed close to the bed and bared his weight on it, clenching his jaw tighter as he struggled to lift himself from the bed. Alistair tested his footing once he was standing, closing his eyes tight at the jolt that went from his toes up his spine. It was definitely broken.  
  
As he stood there regretting his actions, the door rattled. Alistair glanced up just in time to meet Evelyn’s shocked stare, her lips parting as she audibly gasped. Anything she had been holding went crashing to the floor, broken glass littering the ground around her feet. Whatever Alistair had dreamed their reunion to be left his mind, all words of passion and sweet-nothings escaping him. He was taken aback by her appearance—her hair was shorter and her skin glowed, kissed by the sun in her travels. She was dressed casually, something she typically slept in and it had his head swimming in memories of the way her body felt next to his every night, and the emptiness he had been carrying for the last two years.  
  
Evelyn seemed to be sifting through thoughts of her own, her guard dropping as the moment passed. Finally, he breathed out, offering a small smile as he gripped the chair beneath him. He didn’t mean to, but finally, his leg gave out and he slipped, practically crumbling into the seat. She was at his side in an instant, catching him to stabilize him. Alistair tried to ignore the pain in his leg, wanting to focus on the way Evelyn’s hands felt on his skin. He had to be dreaming.  
  
“Maker, why are you out of bed?” she scolded. Her voice made it reality.  
  
Alistair held onto her, half for support, half in fear she’d disappear at any moment. They moved backwards to the bed, and Alistair ignored the jolts of pain that came from various places on his body. Evelyn tried to tear away from him in worry, but he only wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. He didn’t want her to leave.   
  
“Is this real?” he asked. He was desperate.  
  
Alistair had been dreaming of her since they parted, and had started to believe they would never see each other again. Evelyn had to force his grip loose so she could lean back to stare at his face. Alistair felt the tears prickle in the corner of his eyes, and cursed himself for always being so emotional. After a moment, Evelyn nodded, moving her head in earnest.  


“ _Yes_ ,” she softly laughed with tears of her own. Instantly he reached up to catch the stray tears that spilled onto her cheeks.  
  
Alistair swept his good thumb across her cheek, and then towards her lips before cupping her chin. Evelyn leaned into his embrace once more, this time lowering herself so they could finally kiss. He moved his lips slowly, struggling to keep it chaste. The last thing he wanted was to rush their reunion. When he pulled away a moment later, Evelyn was smiling, beaming with joy. He copied her grin, and pulled her back down to his chest.  
  
“Stay right here?” he half-asked, half insisted. Evelyn nodded into his shoulder.  
  
“I promise.”  
  
Now that he had her, he wasn’t ever letting go.


End file.
